the last and yet
by dutiesofcare
Summary: It's Leia's first birthday without her twin brother, and she finds herself remembering their previous together before and mourning his death. Post The Last Jedi


**A/N: it's carrie's birthday today and i was sad and i went to take a nap and had this idea and found myself here all of the sudden**

**in loving memory of our princess carrie fisher**

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She was all alone.

Leia Organa, leader of the rebel alliance, last princess of Alderaan, senator of the galactic senate, general of the resistance, conveyer of hope to all those who ever lost something – _everything_ – in their lives given an oppressive system that robbed people of their freedom and souls of their bodies. She was the face that represented hope to an entire galaxy; she had an entire galaxy relying on her, giving her _strength, _and – ironically, she was all alone.

She was all alone, like she once had been in the aftermaths of Alderaan's annihilation. Locked up in a cell, thousands of voices screaming inside her head – voices of people she cared for, people she _loved_; people who had unwillingly died for her, died _because _of her. The sound of their pain was excruciating, it deafened all her senses and it left her with the burden of an entire planet on her shoulders. Later, once the voices had extinguished, once the battle of Yavin had been won and she found herself isolated in her quarters, she learned the resonance of their agony was infinitely better than the static of their silence. Amidst the loudness, at least, they were still _alive._

She was all alone, like she had been in that cell on the Death Star – with her eyes closed and her hands firmly pressed to her ears as her unconsciousness _begged _for the voices to quieten down, while imagery of her life on Alderaan flashed through her mind. Images of all the happiness and love she had known, images of her mother and father being absolutely everything to her, images of the planet exploding and becoming nothing more than space dust.

She was all alone, like she had been after two stormtroopers had thrown her back inside her torture cage, her limbs shaking so much she had been unable to walk herself, having to be dragged by the faceless soldiers. At first, it didn't seem real – although the throbbing inside her heart reminded her that it was. It had all occurred so fast that her brain lacked the strength to keep up with everything that _did _happen. And the weight of carrying the wreckage of an entire civilization – a civilization she was supposed to guide, to _preserve _– was altogether more than she judged herself capable of bearing. She had been ready for her execution; she saw it as her rightful fate.

She was all alone, like she had been inside that tiny dark cell, indifferent whether the darkness was coming from within herself or from the lack of proper illumination. Except, now, she did not have a scoundrel and a farm boy on their way to her, bringing back to her the _fight_ and, on a selfish note, the sense of _belonging._

Her birthday this year, precisely, felt unbelievably emptier than all the previous ones.

Of course, she was a princess, a leader, a senator, a general – she had little time for those frivolities of life. Like her, he had had little care for his own birthday; _the Jedi way of life, _he would argue, and she would roll her eyes at him, before returning to her responsibility of making the world a better place. But, still, it had been nice, it had been _good _to feel a little loved, by that little voice in the back of her head, that would always come to her in an eerie tone from wherever he was residing in the galaxy to say,

_"Happy birthday, Leia._"

To which she would always reply without much reference,

_"Happy birthday, Luke."_

And then they would start bickering at each other over who was the oldest twin, and who had the power over whom, and who had been key player at saving the universe from their _father's _grip and – oh, how much had they missed by growing apart from each other.

_Oh_, how much did she miss him.

They had, indubitably, made up for all the lost time. She wouldn't trade her life on Alderaan for anything, and he had been rather content with his youth on Tatooine as well; however, finding their path to each other was one of the greatest bliss she had come to known. It almost put into perspective that everything she had lost was the pylon of everything she had come to gain: a free galaxy, a husband, a son, a _brother_.

All gone.

She was all alone.

The resistance – whatever was left of it – had thrown a fit about it. Surprising her the moment she stepped into the command room with cheerful screams and a welcoming atmosphere. She held her composure – as she always did; she might have lost her throne over thirty years before but she was _still _a princess – crossed eyes and smiled politely at every familiar face in the room, and then dismissed everyone with a wave of her hand, saying sardonically,

"_Thank you _for reminding me that I am one year closer to my death and this war has yet to be _won_."

She spoke in her cool, monotonous tone that she had always used in the royal palace and in the galactic senate, and they offered her a chuckle in return, but ultimately understood the message and turned back to their jobs. No one dared speak about it with her again.

She had appreciated their little effort; that she was not only respected, but _loved _as well – however, they did not understand. They could not understand what it had been like, having her first birthday after Aldeeran's obliteration, away from her parents, from her family, from her _home. _They could not comprehend what it had been like pretending that day had been just another fighting day, without a warm, gratifying welcome from her parents – or anyone, really – and some flattering ornamental gift, until she passed by a reunited group of cheerful pilots and got caught into the tumult.

_"What's going on?" _she had asked everyone in her authoritative voice, in whatever hopes she had of _mingling in, _of belonging once more.

Instead, as expected, she had been met with an abrupt interrupt of the turmoil and shoulders being set straight. Except _him _– his upbringing did not do wonders to his behavior next to superior officers, or _royals, _to which she was thankful for.

_"It's Luke's birthday, Your Highness."_

A frown had taken over Leia's face. She had been taught from birth _never _to take coincidences lightly, and there she stood, in front of one of the few people she had ever called her _friend _in life, who, as luck would have it, shared a birthday with her. It was like a light had just sparked inside of her, and she could not put a name to it.

Her frown, however, had been interpreted as a sign of dismissal – even from _him, _even though she had assumed he knew her better than that.

_"We're sorry, Your Highness. We will quit the celebrations immediately and return to duty."_

That remark had hurt her more than the loneliness that hung around her like a halo – did they really think she was that _rigid_? Had her ways of coping with everything that happened to her painted her as some sort of _cold _martyr? She threw the realization away before it could show on her traits.

_"No, it's not that," _she held her hands behind her back, her posture making her somehow taller than everyone else in the room. It had been her loneliness and her _desperation _to belong that allowed her to step down from her pedestal and become one step closer to them, _"I was taken aback, is all. Luke never mentioned it to me and, well. I never really thought it was a coincidence that I was born on Empire Day, and it surprised me the realization that Luke was also_._"_

The implication had been made, and every pilot moved to respectfully wish her a happy birthday, without the uproar from before. Except _Luke, _who hugged her dearly and spun her in the air and made her _laugh, _who – she'd felt it, she'd swear she had - retained that same light lit up inside of him.

Everyone always commented about a natural connection between twins, and she supposed, because the force was strong in their family, that their connection was far deeper than what the average mind conceived. However, she had never truly understood the weight of it until she had lost it, and he was gone.

Leia sighed, in the loneliness of her empty quarters, and searched for the golden dice she always wore as a chain, hidden under the collar of her blouse. Searching with the force for whatever sensation of Luke, and of Han, that still lodged there.

"Happy birthday, Luke," she whispered, to no one, and to _everyone _who dared to listen, before turning around and going to sleep.

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**A/N: this is my first ever star wars fic so, ya know, be kind to me and give me some feedback uwu**


End file.
